


Pale September

by yangji



Series: Some Birds Aren't Meant to Be Caged [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, FF import, nejihina - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 12:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yangji/pseuds/yangji
Summary: There is no time, but it moves so quickly. Winter gives way to warm as their bodies meet.





	Pale September

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Бледный сентябрь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071729) by [Furimmer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furimmer/pseuds/Furimmer)

> Originally Written: August 26th, 2011  
Inspired By: Pale September by Fiona Apple  
And a very old NejiHina comic that I can no longer find the source for.

Time glides by unnoticed, a cotton dress that brushes her skin as fall gives way to winter in the month of September. She’s still waiting.

Shinobi know death, not as a friend or a comrade, but heavy luggage that they may have packed with them on a mission. This knowledge of death’s companionship gives her no right to worry.

But worry she does, heart growing cold.

His missions are long, tedious and she can’t even begin to imagine how dangerous. He’s been absent most of the year. Color is gone, dulled by the lack of his immediate existence and the dying embers of summer. She stands pale against the empty ink of the night sky, waiting as her mind resounds hollowed rhythms of reassurance.

He’s not there; and then he is with his mask clinging to his hip. And everything is so bright, and she swears the moon is full and brilliant reflected in his face. He leans down, not touching her until he is too close not to, sinking into her.

The cold, pale exterior is gone. His Anbu armor falls away to join her silk robe in a pile at their feet. There is no time, but it moves so quickly. Winter gives way to warm as their bodies meet.

She sweeps back his hair from face and his scarred forehead. His eyes, pale, the same shade as a water lily, watch her watch him. She has always seen him as a man unweighed down by passion or intensity, unaware of the depths of his own emotions. He only ever skims the surface, floating.

And when the emotions are too much, when a mission has gone too long and he has seen too much blood, he finds a home in her. Misfortune has sown his whole life, yet she reaps it all with her gentle touch.

Her thumb slowly glides across his forehead.

Winter gives way to warm. His eyes finally close as she tangles her fingers in his hair. She sings to him under her breath as he falls asleep.

“Pale September…”


End file.
